


Co-Existing

by kapachiramasama



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, F/M, Same Team Au, symmetra has ocd and autism, team mom mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 21:45:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7138502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kapachiramasama/pseuds/kapachiramasama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the entire team lives together in one house, Mercy overlooks putting a perfectionist and an anarchist right next to one another.</p><p>Mostly Junkmettra, Rocket Angel is also there, and like a sentence of McHanzo but not enough to tag it. Yeah I don't really know why I did this but like whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Co-Existing

Having Symmetra and Junkrat in adjacent rooms was a decision akin to the time Pharah and Mercy spilled grape soda in the cake batter on accident. Horrifying realization turned into a proverbial shrug with a dash of ‘Whatever happens, happens,’, and eventually turned out as a great move. 

When arranging who would sleep where, there were a lot of things to consider. Junkrat and Road Hog needed to share a room, so they had to have the master suite. D.Va’s room couldn’t face the East, or else she would complain for literal hours about being woken up by the ‘Got damn space fire shit.’ On the other hand, Mercy and Pharah’s shared room did face the East, so they can rise with the sun. Soldier 76 wanted a room with a clear view of the front door, for paranoid old man reasons. Reaper wanted a room near Soldier’s, to give him a reason to be paranoid. Mei’s room needed to have a separate air conditioning system, so she could keep it freezing without disturbing others. Lucio needed soundproof walls, so he was given half the basement. The other half belonged to Zarya, so she could keep her exercise equipment out of the way. Winston and Reinhardt needed to be on the ground floor because of their equipment and weight. Widowmaker loved long baths and scented candles, so she had her own bathroom. Tracer was a loud night owl, so she needed to stay away from the older bunch. And, of course, the lovely Shimada brothers were raised to not make a fuss. Their only request was to be put on opposite ends of the house. Except, Genji also wanted a room close to Zenyatta and Mercy, for when his demon’s troubled him. Hanzo needed a room next to McCree, so the walk of shame one of them ventured every morning was less noticeable. But McCree needed not only a room with a large window to blow smoke out of, it needed to be far away from Mercy, Mei, Pharah, Reinhardt, D.Va and Winston, whom all had a sickly aversion to his cigars. In fact, the only two who didn’t make a fuss were Torbjorn and Bastion. Torbjorn was fine sleeping in the garage with all of his machines, and Bastion, bless his soul, only needed a few hours of charging, then spent the rest of the night wandering the meadows and forests near the property. The mere sight of Bastion and his newly acquired animal friends is enough to make most of the weep.

In all the mayhem and mess, Pharah and Mercy completely neglected any possible problems that would arise from Symmetra and Junkrat living together. Of course, part of the reason being neither complained, but this was most likely because neither were whiners to begin with. Symmetra was definitely a ‘Any problem I have I will fix myself’ type of gal, while Junkrat was definitely a ‘Silver Linings’ guy. So when Pharah realized the problem, she kept her mouth shut. Why fix what isn’t broken? She felt pity for Symmetra, of course. She was not ashamed of her OCD or autism, and she made very clear what the team should avoid or make an effort to do for her sake. Lucio kept the basement door closed when working on his music, Torbjorn inventions stayed in the garage and out of her sight, and absolutely no one was allowed into her room without expressed permission. Her clean and orderly life must have clashed horribly with the chaotic and disruptive junkers just a wall away. Junkrat himself was always covered in something or another, whether sticky or powdery. But problem’s like homemade shooting galleries in the kitchen and fistfights over bathroom usage took precedent over this for the time being, so Pharah put it off. When Mercy came to the realization, however, she acted immediately.

As a doctor, Mercy accommodated for everyone's physical and mental needs. This is how she ended up at Symmetra door on a bright Sunday afternoon, knocking three times; no more, no less.  
Symmetra opened a beat later. Mercy was the absolute queen of looking like an organized mess. Single mother’s envied her messy ponytail, college professors weep for her button down- sweater vest combo, and she wore her khakis with just a hint of wrinkles. All her white and tan clothing had not a spot on them, despite living with twenty overgrown children. But if Mercy was clean, Symmetra was a wonder. 

Symmetra pristine cerulean and gold dress had a geometric pattern one could get lost in like an Ikea after closing. Her slicked back hair was in a ponytail only talented artists could draw a rendition of, and still probably put too many hairs out of place, for the sake of ‘realism.’ And of course, her skin was free of any blemish or imperfection. Symmetra was breathtaking, and Mercy had to recover every time she saw her.

“Hello, Mercy,” Symmetra started, evenly, smiling slightly. As always, her chin was up, eyes kind, but as if they knew something you didn’t. Given her education, this was true most of the time. Mercy sweetly smiled back.

“Satya, I told you, it’s Angela at home,” The ‘first name’ rule had to be initiated early on. Calling a grown man who spends his Fridays watching conspiracy theory videos on Youtube ‘Soldier 76’ was getting weird. The only one’s who insisted on staying with their work name were those who didn’t have a work name to begin with, Zarya, and Junkrat. In Zarya’s case, she found the nickname cuter, but no one was really sure why Junkrat was still Junkrat. In fact, Angela couldn’t even remember anyone ever calling him Jamison.

“Angela, then,” Symmetra turned around into her room. “Come in,” Angela took one step before Satya whip back around. “Shoes off and in the hall, please!” She rushed, before regaining her composure. Angela nodded.

“Of course, my bad,” Satya smiled with gratitude when Angela’s loafers were sitting safely in the hallway. She closed the door behind her. She moved to sit on the bed, but Satya made a face. Angela froze.

“Is there something wrong?” She asked. Satya met her eyes and gave her sheepish smile.  
“Well, you see, I just made it, and I’d hate to go through the whole process again…” Angela nodded.

“Of course, it’s no problem. Do you mind if I open the curtains?” She asked. Satya smiled brightly.

“Not at all,” Mercy moved to the window and let the sunshine filter in. The neighborhood itself was pretty quiet, of course, until noon rolled around and half of the mansion woke up. She leaned against the window frame and admired the perfect garden Bastion was tending too. Satya cleared her throat.

“I was about the make a phone call, do you mind waiting for a moment?” She asked. Mercy shook her head.

“By all means,” Satya nodded clicked a few settings on her bluetooth. Soon, interactive screens and touch pads materialized in front of her, and she began speaking in her ‘architect tone.’ The tone used when she wanted someone to do something she obviously could do better herself, but didn’t have the time for, so made it absolutely clear what she wanted to be done. Angela couldn’t understand the language itself, so she took the opportunity to admire Satya’s room. The color scheme was all blue, gold, and white. Her bed spread had three pillows, arranged so two took up the width of the bed, and the third laid on top of the others, in the dead center. The comforter had gorgeous hexagonal designs that fit together perfectly. Unlike the other carpeted rooms, her floor was white tiled. Her white desk station had dozens of blueprints rolled up neatly in barrel on the side. Every pencil was sharpened and pen capped inside a mug. The wastebin was emptied every morning, and sat trash free as of now. Her clothes were all either folded away neatly in one of the white dressers or hanging in the closed closet. The curtains Angela drew back were sheer gold, and gave a beautiful faux sunset to the room. As well as everything being orderly and neat, the room was also very symmetrical. The dressers mirrored each other on either sides of the one wall that was free of any windows or doors. The closet door and bedroom door mirrored one another, the two windows had the same curtains. She had two large bookshelves that sat on opposite corners of the blank wall. All the books had cerulean covers Satya must have put on herself, with gold lettering on the spine reading the title. Every single book was in order of size, with the largest books on the side of the bookshelf closest to the perpendicular wall, and gradually getting smaller as they went in. The only things that were one of a kind were the desk station and bed, but they simply mirrored each other. Moment’s like these made Angela realize how compulsive Satya was. In the hecticness of everyday life on the battlefield, she guessed Satya needed her room to be the one place everything was orderly, neat, and completely under her control.

Suddenly, Satya dropped into her rolling chair and pulled open a drawer of the desk, pulling out a pad of sticky notes and a pen. She wrote down notes while continuously talking on the phone, and began pulling out blueprints, checking them quickly before rolling them up and putting them back in place. She must have found whatever she was looking for, because she soon sighed with relief, tagged the blueprint with the note, and said farewell to the caller. She hung up and put the blueprint in place and closed the drawer, but overlooked the pen. Angela let it be, for now, because Satya spun towards her again.

“My apologies. Things get… chaotic when I’m not there,” Her smiled was tinged by a bit of a furrow in her eyebrows, stress seeping through. Angela took it as an opening.

“That’s actually related to what I came here to-” She was cut off by sudden knocking on the door. Three knocks in even succession, a pause, and then another three knocks. Angela found this strange, but Satya grinned.

“Come in!” She called. This was another oddity, as Staya never let her or any of the other housemates simply ‘come in.’ Satya always answered the door.

What was even more surprising was when Junkrat opened the door, grinning widely. His clothes were actually not as tattered as his work outfit, his skin was clearer of some of the usual grime, and his hair was not on fire. Angela imagined this is what he would look like at a job interview, but the idea of anything Junkrat related at a job interview was too much insanity to bare. He was still hunched over, and in his hands was a book, with an familiar blue cover.

“Saty, I cannot believe this,” He started, paying absolutely no mind to Angela. Before he even dared stepped into the room, he removed his dirty shoes, and revealed surprisingly clean socks. He waved the book to Satya, who had a raised eyebrow and sly grin. “You give me this and tell me it’s about alien space wars, and instead I get a social commentary about raising kids to be ‘intelligent’ and the stress we put on them ankle biters and ourselves to achieve? Absolutely mental. Even when the Omnic wars went, we didn’t have children join the Nasho,” He beelined to one of the bookshelves, seeming to know exactly where the book fit in. Satya nodded.

“Ender’s Game was much more relatable to me as a child, although I am glad to hear how much you enjoy it now,” She responded warmly. Angela had thought Satya was friendly with her, but she was practically glowing now. 

“Have to admit, got bloody hard near the end. Kept losing the damn bookmark and I nearly bought myself a copy just to dog ear the page,” Satya raised her eyebrows, but he raised his arms in defense. “No worries, your pages are fine. Just had Mako remember the pages for me,” Satya giggled at her guest, eyes shining bright. Junkrat’s grin widened and gave her a look Angela knew she had seen before, but couldn’t exactly remember where. 

“The whole book was insane. Complete 180 from the last one. Uh- what was it”

“Catch-22,” Satya finished.

“Catch-22!” Junkrat exclaimed. He moved to go sit on the bed, but stopped at seeing it freshly made. Instead, he sat on the floor, knees up, and back leaning against the wall, looking content. He waved a finger at Satya. “Now that was a good one. Took a few reads just to understand what the hell was goin’ on. Reminded me so much my life, I swear it was a junker biography,” Satya’s face went a bit disheartened at that, only so much that Angela almost didn’t notice. Junkrat did.

“Well, I believe Ender’s Game is sort of my Catch-22. I can’t say I enjoyed Catch-22 as much, but I admit, it’s a classic for a reason,” Junkrat’s face softened at her, but he kept his ever lasting smile nonetheless. He looked past her and hopped up. He walked over and practically leaned on her, frame nearly enveloping hers. Angela was confused and tense, but saw he was putting away the forgotten pen. Satya smiled, but didn't address it as he sat back down. They were both quiet for a moment, content with their eye contact and quiet smiles.

“Well, Saty, I can honestly say you deserved a lot more than the lot you got out of life,” He said. Angela had never heard him speak so quietly and calmly. It seemed every time he spoke it was to scream, yell, or laugh maniacally. Satya nodded a bit.

“And to you, Jamie,” The nickname came easily and without hesitation. Angela felt her eyes widen with surprise. She had no idea they were anywhere near this close. Neither noticed her. Junkrat just stretched his arms over his head and killed his head lazily.

“‘s not so bad. To me n’ Mako, chaos is freedom,” His grin was fading a bit, and he actually looked a bit… Calm?

“Freedom comes at a great price,” Symmetra said. She was talking to Junkrat, her eyes were gazing solemnly on her prosthetic arm. Junkrat look back and forth between Satya’s pristine and clean arm and his own makeshift limb. 

“I guess for some, the price is just lower than others,” He mumbled. The room was still, as they looked at each other with an understanding that Angela would never achieve. 

Scared the living hell out of her when Junkrat turned to her. 

“Sorry for hogging Saty here,” He stood up and brushed himself off. Angela felt embarrassed, like she was peeping in on something she was never meant to see. Junkrat grabbed a random book from the shelf, flipping through it quickly. “The Fountainhead. This one a good read?” He asked Satya. She cocked a sarcastic grin.

“Well, he blows up a building in one scene-”

“Sold!” Junkrat snapped the book closed. His usual grin returned. He walked over rob the door, flipping on his shoes.

“I’ll tell ya how it goes tomorrow!” He wiggled his fingers playful, and threw in a wink. Satya giggled and waved back.

“Goodbye,” Junkrat left, but the glow stayed on Satya’s face. She stared at the door he had just left through for a moment, as if it were the stars and sky itself. She suddenly remembered Angela, and turned towards her.

“I’m dearly sorry, Angela. What is it you needed?” Angela took note of Satya’s lingering smile, relaxed posture, and kind eyes before shaking her head.

“I completely forget. I don't think it was serious. Sorry for interrupting.” She walked over to the door, putting on her loafers.

“Well, have a wonderful day,” Satya said brightly. She closed the door, leaving Angela in the hallway, dumb folded.

It wasn't until later that night, as Pharah walked into their bedroom after being away all day, face glowing and blissful as she greeted her wife with a kiss, that she recognized the look on Junkrat’s face.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering more to this, but it won't be a second chapter. I love when spell check underlines every single persons name.


End file.
